“I used to look at my dog and think, If you were a little smarter you could tell me what you were thinking, and he’d look at me like he was saying, if you were a little smarter, I wouldn’t have to.” - Fred Jungclaus
Fall 2009….
My animals keep me in check. Its hard to hide under the covers when you have hounds that need to be fed, taken out and scratched behind their ears several times a day. Knox, is my protector, he senses when things aren’t right, he growls and plants his feet firmly in the ground and takes his stance, staking his territory. He sniffs under the door as if to say there is something beastly out there. This is enough of a sign for me to head back to bed and throw the covers over my head.
But Hunter won’t let me; she has the temperament of a grand old lady of the south and the heart of a teddy bear. She should be sporting pearls around her silky chocolate brown neck. She has really bad arthritis and trouble with her hind legs. She can no longer hoist herself up onto the bed, which has always been her choice of refuge. She never complains, I can learn a lot from her.
Hunter licks my hand as if I’m a human Popsicle, her lapping up of love and concern sends flares to all parts of my body (I need and want love, but it seems to have been removed from my to-do list). Hunter is a Zen pup, a healing being who only wants what’s best for everyone…..well that and any and everything she can jam down her throat. A few years ago I was having friends over for a dinner party and entered the house with a bakery box of cannolis tied up with a candy cane colored string. I put the box on the kitchen table and headed to the bathroom for no more then three minutes tops. When I approached the kitchen the box was missing, Hunter was on the couch in all her glory. She looked at me as the string from the bakery box entered her mouth as if she was sucking in a long string of al dente spaghetti. In the amount of time that a bank robber could crack open a safe, she had jumped up onto the kitchen table, wrangled the box into her chops and carried it, (I’m assuming) by the handy dandy string to the couch where she dined on a dozen cannolis, the doilies, the cardboard box and string. She continues to lick my hand as if she is healing my weakened sprit and broke back body…..and she is.
